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In Hell, the flames are rising;

Bodies lie, in respectful rows.

The dead are remembered, mourned;

As grieving begins, the missing are missed.

Borders, faith? It all means nothing;

Flags and fat commanders are a joke.


If one could define tragedy,

This is a tragedy.

And yet, what happens, happens.

The usual suspects dish out blame,

But few of us are free from blame.

What about the innocent, the victims?

Perhaps no one is innocent,

But many are victims.


◄ Circus

Flatpack ►


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Stephen Gospage

Thu 2nd Nov 2023 17:15

Thank you, Keith, Manish and John. Hell seems to be all around us. These horrible conflicts stop us getting on with the job of being decent human beings.

And thanks to Hélène, Hugh, Pete, Holden, K Lynn, John GE and Tim for liking this one.

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John Coopey

Thu 2nd Nov 2023 11:13

Excellent and succinct assessment, Stephen.

Manish Singh Rajput

Thu 2nd Nov 2023 10:16

I completely agree with Keith. Another superb poem, Stephen!

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keith jeffries

Thu 2nd Nov 2023 09:56

Well said. This sums up the tragedy perfectly.
Thank you for this,

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